


Drowning

by Calacious



Category: Dallas - All TV Series
Genre: Angst, Kind of fluffy, Kissing, M/M, Sibling Incest, Sibling Love, attempted drowning, bad memories, comfort after a nightmare, not set in any particular season
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-29
Updated: 2015-09-29
Packaged: 2018-04-23 23:05:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4895758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Calacious/pseuds/Calacious
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bobby's drowning, and there's no one there to rescue him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Drowning

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Gadhar](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gadhar/gifts).



> **Disclaimer** : I do not own the characters of this work of fiction.
> 
> **A/N** : I wrote this quite awhile ago, and wasn't sure if I should post it or not. I believe it was for a hurt/comfort bingo square - drowning.

He’s never been afraid of water. At least not before now. Not before he finds himself choking on the stuff, eyes bugging out of his head, fingers clawing at arms that should be there, but aren’t. 

He can picture his big brother’s face. Almost see the disgust and the pity in JR’s hard eyes. Eyes of steel. 

Eyes that he wouldn’t mind seeing now, because, even though his big brother sometimes hates him, he’d never allow for this. Never allow Bobby to drown.

There’s laughter floating somewhere over his head. 

Taunting him. 

The sound of voices, muffled by the drowning water, close in on him. 

Mocking him. 

Making him feel small and alone. Making it even more difficult for him to hold his breath, because his heart is telling him that no one rescue is coming. His tormentors – a group of older boys; JR’s friends – will succeed in killing him. 

It’s a daunting thought for a ten year old. 

That of death.

Bobby’s unsure of what awaits him after the inevitable happens. Will there be fluffy, white clouds and winged angels? Or will there be only darkness? He’s afraid of the dark, though he doesn’t dare tell JR. His brother would hate him even more.

Or will death be like JR says it is – pain and evil, horned creatures that would take pleasure in hurting him, much like the bullies he faced at school. His brother’s never wrong. Leastways not as Bobby’s ever seen. 

He can only hold his breath for so long before he opens his mouth, foolishly, under the water. And he knows this.  Remembers hearing something about it – on TV, in school…

His lungs are already burning, begging him to do the one act that will kill him – breathe. 

Begging, begging, burning, and he can’t hold out any longer. Can’t ignore the beg-burning of his lungs or the frenetic pounding of his heart as it makes an attempt to burst out of his bruised chest. 

He opens his mouth, gasps. His fingers scrabble at nothing, paw through the smooth, empty planes of water that no longer feels wet as it fills his mouth, his nose, his lungs. 

He’s drowning and his big brother is nowhere to be found, though Bobby can see him in his mind’s eye – lips set in a fierce, grim line, hands fisted at his side, cowboy hat tugged low, obscuring the upper half of his face, making it impossible for Bobby to see those eyes, sparking dangerously with anger. 

Darkness swirls around him, like hands, and fingers and smoke that he can’t see, but can feel. It’s terrifying. Makes him remember a ghost story that JR told him when he was younger. He hadn’t been able to sleep straight through the night for weeks afterwards.

“Bobby,” JR’s voice calls him from far away. It’s no longer youthful, and Bobby’s mind blanks. 

He can’t breathe, his lungs seize, and there are fingers digging into his shoulder. It’s painful, breaks through the tightening of his lungs, brings him back from the brink of drowning, lets light seep in, and he can see again. 

He blinks. 

“Breathe,” JR’s voice is strong, hard. There’s no compassion in it, but Bobby can see a trace of the oft scoffed at feeling reflected in his brother’s eyes.

Bobby gasps for air, draws painful, lung-burning gulps of it in. His throat aches, and his chest heaves. His heart feels like it’s going to implode. He’s blinking back tears, and JR’s staring back at him, unblinking, eyes boring into him.

“J…” Bobby draws in a shuddering breath, “R?”

JR shakes his head and presses his lips to Bobby’s forehead when Bobby finally starts to get his breathing under control. He rolls onto his back, and lets out a breath.

“Same nightmare?” JR asks.

It’s been over five decades now, but he nods, bites his lip, opens his mouth to apologize, but JR’s there, kissing the bad memory away, helping him to breathe again. Bobby knows that JR sometimes hates him, but it’s times like this that makes it hard for him to remember that. 

Fifty plus years of climbing into his big brother’s bed whenever something’s gone wrong, or, like now, when he finds himself alone, because his marriage is on the rocks – one would think that JR would’ve seen fit to kick him out, deny him this comfort. Instead, he pulls back the covers, holds him while he pours out his heart, while he weeps, when the nightmares come back to haunt him. 

JR never offers him trite words of comfort. Never takes his side in an argument, sometimes tells him that he’s being stupid or pigheaded. No, what JR gives Bobby is so much better than any of that. He gives him a love that transcends typical brotherly love, kissing away the nightmares, and making everything alright again.

 


End file.
